Just Ducky
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: What happens when one of Ducky's 'guest' counsels him?  Written for the MFU -Halloween 2011 Challenge -


The harsh smell of industrial cleaner did little to alleviate the permanent perfume left by too many run bowels and stomach contents. Donald 'Ducky' Mallard sighed and shook his head. He'd been at this so long, he never even noticed it anymore, except when being introduced to people. He saw their noses crinkle up and their hands hesitate before taking his. He was a man who surrounded himself with death. Unlike others, however, he saw Death as an old friend, not as something to fear.

"Ducky?"

He heard Abby shouting and turned. She'd gotten out of the elevator and was hurrying towards him. "Yes, Abigail?"

"Ducky!" She proudly thrust an envelope at him and he took it with a measured movement, not wanting to appear too eager or hesitant. "I'm having a Halloween party. Please, please, please say you'll come this year!"

"I shall do my very best, Abigail."

"You always say that and you never come."

"Perhaps this year I will surprise you."

"Okay!" She hugged him and left the way she came.

He gave her a warm smile as she bounced off. _Did I ever have that much energy?_ he thought as she left_. _

He already knew what his answer to her invitation would be. When his mother had grown ill with Alzheimer's, he was trapped at home evenings. When she went to the facility, he spent as many evenings with her as possible, just talking about the old times. That seemed to calm her when nothing else could. The staff got so used to seeing him, there was a standing joke about putting him on the payroll.

Now she was gone, yet he still rarely went out in the evenings. He tried at first, even taking up with a younger woman, a brazen Jezebel his mother would have called her. It just didn't feel…right. He felt himself trapped between the land of the living and the dead, not a part of either.

Sighing, he walked over to one of the morgue refrigerators and slid out one of the drawers. The body inside was modestly covered, but when he pulled back the sheet, he gasped, "Mother?"

She turned her head to look at him. "I'm worried about you, Donald."

"But you're dead," he sputtered.

"And you routinely talk to the dead. One might say you have more in common with them than the living."

"Nonsense."

"You need people in your life, Donald. What about that nice young lady who watched over you…"

"Kate has passed, Mother, just as you have."

"I know I'm dead; you mustn't keep bringing the fact up. But you are alive, Donald. You should act it."

"I miss you… so much," he whispered.

"I miss you too, my sweet boy, but your duty is done to me. Now you need to live." He closed his eyes at the feeling of her hand on his skin, so achingly familiar.

"Hey, Duck!" The voice of his very dear friend, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, made him snap his eyes open and his head around. When he looked back, the drawer was empty. "Something wrong, Duck? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, I'm fine, Jethro, just woolgathering."

"So are you going to Abby's party?"

"Ah, so she's invited you as well."

"It's all she's been talking about for the last week. She's pretty excited."

"I think perhaps I shall decline."

"You should think about it, Duck. Do you good to get out." Gibbs patted his shoulder and nodded towards the desk. "You got my results?"

"Oh, yes." It felt good to slip into the familiar routine, the rambling stories that took the sting out of the inhumanity they frequently faced.

Then he was talking to thin air and he heard the glass doors whispering shut. The man always knew how to make an exit.

He turned back to the empty drawer and felt as if his heart had been stabbed. Kate looked back at him, just as he remembered her, that sweet smile, the kind brown eyes.

"He really loves you, you know. He's worried about you."

"I'm fine, Caitlin, truly I am."

"You spend too much time with us, Ducky."

"If I don't speak for you, who will?" Tenderly, he brushed a strand of dark hair from her face.

"But you shouldn't use us to hide behind just because you fear life and its losses."

"I don't…" he began to sputter, but she merely smiled.

"You can't lie to the dead, Ducky. We see right through you. You surround yourself with the dead because you can't bear to be with the living."

"No, it's not that."

"You will be with us soon enough, Ducky. Live while you can. That's all that we wish for you. Be with the ones who love you now."

"Doctor, I'm sorry I'm late." Jimmy Palmer came running in, his cheeks flushed, involuntarily ripping the ME's attention from the drawer. "Are you okay, Doctor?"

Kate was gone. "Please don't tell me that I look as if I've seen a ghost."

"Ahh… okay… but do you want to sit down or something?"

"Now that you mention it, Mr. Palmer, I think I shall take a bit of a walk."

His steps followed a familiar path to the lab and he winced at the music that assaulted his ears the moment he stepped through the glass doors.

Ignorant of his presence, Abby gyrated around to the beat of what was now passing as music. Then she saw him and immediately turned it down.

"Hi, Ducky, what can I do for you?" She bounced up to him, her pigtails dancing.

"I just wish to tell you that I am pleased to accept your invitation."

She squealed and hugged him. "Gibbs so owes me a Caf-pow."

"Why's that?"

"He said you wouldn't."

"Well, you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks, my dear_." And a well meaning ghost or two._ Still it was Halloween.


End file.
